


I Know They'll Never Win

by ermengarde



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-03
Updated: 2012-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-04 18:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ermengarde/pseuds/ermengarde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon's... Brendon's okay, you know? He usually manages to get a bed at the shelter and he's got his guitar, he's managed to save a little bit...he's got <em>options.</em> It's okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know They'll Never Win

Brendon's... Brendon's okay, you know? He usually manages to get a bed at the shelter, he's a regular and he gets to skip past the _we have to check through all your stuff to see that you're not carrying a weapon_ line and the staff have mostly stopped asking for his date of birth and if there's anyone they'd like him to call, if there's anyone who'll be _worried_. 

Brendon is totally old enough to live by himself, and soon he'll be able to afford his own place, or his own room maybe... he's just having some cash flow issues right now, that's all, and the shelter's great - they've got hot water and soap and he's pretty sure the sheets are washed sometimes - but it's not a _permanent address_ so, yes. Just a little, like, temporary cash flow issue and he's got his guitar so it's not like he's totally out of options or anything. Brendon _totally_ has options. He's totally opted not to try out as a stripper or whatever (he could; Brendon's got rhythm, he can dance and he doesn't look like an epileptic on fire, no matter _what_ Todd said last Christmas, but he's choosing not to. He wants to, like, maybe bulk up a little bit before he tries that. He's a bit skinny, he thinks, right at the moment, and he's kind of got a hazy idea that skinny isn't where the big bucks are), he's opting to busk for now and he does alright, he mostly eats okay (and he knows where the good food handout places are, the ones that he can go to without someone from the Church maybe seeing him and embarrassing his parents) and he's been putting away the bigger denomination bills every day (single bucks and change are bulky, and he's reasoned out that, really, it's not worth the energy expenditure to carry them for too long, so he spends them on razors and deodorant and crackers and sunscreen).

So, it's, you know, okay, Brendon is doing okay and he's got, like, nearly fifty bucks saved up, and maybe sometimes he gets a little lonely, but the shelter staff will talk to him, and the people who hand out rolls and cheese and milk over by the park are totally into the same music Brendon would be into if he could afford to go to any shows, so. Okay. He's okay.

Except maybe...Brendon frowns as he tunes his guitar, again. He doesn't quite have perfect pitch, so he's not sure how far off his E-string is - he knows his guitar's all in tune with itself, he learned how to tune it _way_ before he could afford anything electronic to tell him if he was doing it right - give him an E from a piano or a tuning fork and he's good to go, but he doesn't have a piano and he didn't even think to grab a tuning fork when he was packing up his old life, so he thinks he's probably a way off right by now. And the strings are old, like, he had one spare set when he left and he tried to keep the first set on as long as he could because strings are expensive, but...yeah, they don't hold their tune very long any more and the E and A are a bit buzzy because they're loose...and he's got an old matchstick shoved under them anyway because the bridge needs replaced (it's totally a valid fix, with new strings you would never be able to tell by the sound, but it looks kind of...sad). So, like, maybe, if the Blue Fairy was real or whatever then new strings would be nice. 

It's not... he does _have_ the money for new strings, he just, it means he'll be in the shelter for longer and he was kind of looking forward to getting to sleep in past six and maybe being able to stay out busking a little later in the evenings (he's fairly sure that if he plays, like, love songs and things in the park that he could do alright out of the dating crowd... except for how he needs to be at the shelter before the dating crowd is really at the park, so...he's scoped out places he could maybe sleep if he stayed out too late for the shelter but he's kind of a small to defend his territory and his things and he's pretty sure he'd get rolled if he tried sleeping up a tree or whatever and he needs his guitar and his savings, so).

He pushes it as long as he can, past the point where he's wincing because everything he plays sounds flat because of the harmonic buzz from the E and A strings, right out into where other people are wincing, too, and he's not getting money thrown into his guitar case anymore, just glares and names thrown at his face.

There's only one music store over this side of town, it's not the one he used to go to, before, it's bigger and kind of cooler, with more electric guitars and less religious choral sheet music, and Brendon's walked past it at least a million times, but never gone in because he knows what he looks like with his guitar and all his stuff in a bag on his back and his not-quite-clean-enough clothes and he doesn't want to get thrown out of a music store, just... being thrown out of IHOP sucked, but being thrown out of the only music store within walking distance? Brendon really doesn't want to contemplate that.

Brendon gets his money out of his stash before he goes into the store. He figures that if he's obviously got enough money to buy something then maybe the clerk at the cash register won't, like, call security or whatever right away. He doesn't want to stay there for a long time or anything, just maybe have a little look around, just see what they have?

The store smells _amazing_ , a combination of wood and lacquer and paper and rosin that makes Brendon's heart happy, like nothing bad can happen where there are so many instruments.

Brendon closes his eyes for a moment and just breathes it in.

"Can I help you?"

Brendon startles. The clerk's come out from behind his register and is eyeing Brendon suspiciously. Brendon feels his cheeks color a little and smiles "I, uhh," he swallows, he can do this, he's got money, he's got a right to be here. "I wanted to buy some strings? For my guitar?" He lifts his guitar up, like a talisman. 

The clerk nods and points at a stand that has a bunch of different guitar strings on it, steel and bronze, nickel plated and nylons (he almost kind of wishes his strings were nylon, they're so much cheaper), Martin and Elixir and D'Addario and... he checks the prices of the steel acoustic strings. Five bucks. Okay. That's, like, a tenth of his savings, but, like, he _needs_ them. He takes a deep breath and takes the strings over to the register.


End file.
